Off Target
by Shadow's Interceptor
Summary: A Tierkreis story. Tsaubern won't leave Buchse alone and it's driving him nuts! Minen has an idea . . . This is Buchse/Minen, not because I am against Buchse/Tsaubern but because I just wanted to see if I could make it work.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, since there is practically NO Suikoden Tierkreiss fiction on this site, I figured I'd write some because some of these characters are screaming "Write my future, Write my backstory, Write darn you, WRITE!" I thought I'd write my first story about Asad and Chrodechild (see my profile) but I thought up this scenario with Buchse and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. _

_ I don't own Suikoden Tierkreiss. If I did, Asad and Chrodechild would have gotten together in the game. And there would be more opportunities to use the 108 peeps that they give you. I also make no money from this fanfic, if you paid for it, tell me the name of the person who charged you and I will send Interceptor and Shadow to hunt him/her down. _

BANG – ding

BANG – ding

BANG – ding

Buchse smirked happily as he heard the ding of his bullets hitting home.

BANG – ding

There wasn't much that could make him smile, his face just wasn't programmed for it, but that little noise that signified he had hit the palm sized center of the practice range targets did it every time. Especially when he unloaded a full clip, with each shot followed by that sweet sound.

BANG- ding

BANG – ding

The clip was almost spent; five shots and he would have had another perfect round.

BANG- ding

There was nothing like starting off a day with a perfect round of target practice.

BANG – ding

It even made dealing with . . . certain individuals . . . more tolerable.

BANG- ding

Suddenly Buchse felt _someone_ grab his sides. He jumped and pulled the trigger reflexively.

BANGBANG – thudthud

Two more bullet holes now adorned the wall of the range. He jerked himself away and spun to face his attacker, pointing his now empty rifle at the lucky man's head.

Tsaubern grinned devilishly, "Looking good today Buchse," he pushed the gun away and took a step closer, "Not that you don't look good _every_ day."

Buchse had to restrain himself from beating his pale haired nemesis with the butt of his rifle. The damage to the gun wasn't worth it. Damn Tsaubern really knew how to ruin a good day! And it was only five o' clock . . .

The door to the range creaked open, admitting a woman of average height with sharp, dagger like eyes and a frowning face. The frown deepened when she saw Tsaubern flashing that saucy grin in the direction of a very haggard looking Buchse.

"Isn't it a little early for you to be up Tsaubern?" Minen grumbled.

"Of course not!" Tsaubern said happily, "It's never too early to spend time with my good friend Buchse!" He put an arm around Buchse's shoulders. Minen winced for the silent marksman, whose face wore a blank stare of hopelessness.

Tsaubern withdrew his arm, only to give Buchse a swift poke in the side. Buchse jumped and made a stifled squeaking sound. With a laugh, Tsaubern headed for the door. "See you later Bushey-boy!" he called over his shoulder as he left.

When Tsaubern had finally left, Buchse slammed his rifle down on the counter of the range. Piece by piece, he began to dismantle it. This was a method of therapy, Minen knew. She had done it herself at times. Take the gun apart, put it back together. It was very soothing, handling the smooth metal parts. Of course, it wasn't as good as actually shooting the gun. She joined Buchse at the counter.

"Again?"

". . ." Buchse's silence said it all.

"That's the fifth time this week!"

"I'll wake up earlier tomorrow," Buchse said curtly.

"No you won't," Minen snapped. The silent marksman's eyebrows rose.

"You're already waking up at four in the morning! I don't even know _when_ you sleep! You look like shit Buchse, you have circles under your eyes, haven't shaved in a good three days, and those clothes look like they've been slept in. Numerous times I might add."

He shrugged. She was right, of course. _He_ couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten a good night's sleep. Damn Tsaubern . . . The gun now lay completely dismantled before him. Without missing a beat, he started to put it back together.

Minen waited until he had reassembled the gun before handing him one of her pistols. He took the offered gun and they walked to the shooting line together.

BANGBANG – dingding

BANGBANG – dingding

BANGBANG – dingding

With each shot, Buchse pretended that he was aiming at Tsaubern's head. Each ding turned into a splat as the bullet scrambled the imaginary Tsaubern's brains.

BANGBANG – dingding

BANGBANG – dingding

BANGBANG – dingding

The guns empty, they stepped off the line. Buchse offered the pistol back to Minen.

"Better?" she queried.

". . . Much."

_Whatcha think? There is more to this tale. Review please? _


	2. Chapter 2

_ Here is the slightly revised chapter two. Enjoy. _

_ I don't own Suikoden Tierkreis, I'm just borrowing some of the characters for a while. A long while. Forever . . . I also make no money from this fanfic, if you have paid for it I suggest you go find the person who charged you and beat them over the head with a two-by-four._

Buchse collapsed on his cot in the guard's barracks with a groan. Staring up at the ceiling, he contemplated what had just happened. He had fallen asleep at his post. He, head of the guards for one of the six Imperial families of Ritterschild, had fallen ASLEEP at his post. It was an inexcusable breach of protocol, one that potentially could cost a member of the family their life! Had he caught one of his guardsmen snoozing on the job he would have drilled their sorry selves until they couldn't see straight. But it hadn't been one of his guardsmen, it had been _him._

He heard the door open, but did not bother to turn his head until a bundle of clothing unceremoniously was tossed onto his chest. Pushing himself up, he focused his bloodshot eyes on the familiar form of Minen standing just inside the doorway, hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"Bathe, shave, and go to sleep," she snaped, "And that's an order!"

". . ."

So he was going to be stubborn, was he? "What are you waiting for Captain?" she said a little more harshly, "I gave you a direct order!"

". . . Yes ma'am," he removed himself from the bed and staggered towards the guard's baths. What else could he do? He couldn't disobey a direct order from a member of his employer's family.

While she waited for Buchse to return Minen idly fingered her pistols and examined the small room. A layer of dust covered the sparse furnishings and discarded pieces of uniform dress lay scattered on the floor, among other things. Even the corner where Busche kept his prized guns and equipment was disorderly, the guns themselves were clean but the tools for their maintenance were piled haphazardly on the bench with gunpowder and loose bullets littering the floor nearby. Shaking her head, she sighed. This wasn't the Buchse she knew. The Buchse she knew kept his living quarters neat as a pin and would _never_ keep his weapons in such a manner.

Something had to change here. Something that started with a T and ended with a –saubern.

Ever since Minen's father, head of the fourth Imperial family of Ritterschild had hired Buchse as Captain of the guards Tsaubern had been coming around more and more often. Lord deVer was flattered, it wasn't everyone who had the first son of the second Imperial family of Ritterschild practically living on their estate. Minen suspected that her father had hopes of Tsaubern courting one of his daughters; the old man was really quite blind some times. To the Imperial family, Tsaubern was coy, charming, witty, and impeccably polite. Everyone thought he was the most perfect gentleman to walk the face of the earth. Of course Minen knew better.

The only reason Tsuabern stopped by was Busche. The pale haired noble teased, toyed with, embarrassed, and flirted with the silent sharpshooter almost constantly. Buchse had done everything in his power to avoid it, but Tsaubern practically _stalked_ him! It had been manageable when it was just a few comments when he had been on duty. When Tsaubern started to eat with the guards, at the same times Buchse did, he had been able to shut him out well enough. But when Tsaubern invaded his one sanctuary, the one place he felt safe, it was too much. The shooting range, his safe haven, was no more. No matter how early or how late Buchse snuck out to the range to shoot, Tsaubern seemed to be there. It was clear that the constant strain of being harassed by the pale haired noble was slowly driving Buchse insane.

"Something has to be done!" Minen said to the empty room.

". . .?" or not so empty.

While she had been contemplating, Buchse had returned, wearing the loose cotton shirt and pants she had tossed at him. He looked strange without his ever-present headband and his normally spiky hair damp and flat. That combined with the lack of gun belts gave him an innocent look, made him look . . . normal. Not like the feared sharpshooter of the Belfar Agency or the strict Captain of the guards, just an average, commonplace man.

An average, commonplace man who hadn't slept for a week. Buchse's tired eyebrow rose, he was still curious as to what she had been talking about.

"Tsaubern. Something has to be done about Tsaubern," Minen clarified. Buchse rolled his eyes and tossed his dirty clothes in a corner. Lately he had been too tired to care about keeping his quarters clean. Grabbing his razor he headed for the mirror and wash basin on the other side of the room. While he started to scrape away at the two (three? four?) days worth of stubble Minen started to speak again.

"Buchse, he's obviously about to push you off the deep end. If you don't end up shooting yourself first, you'll end up being charged and executed for the death of a member of the Imperial families."

". . . and?"

"As much as I'd love to see Tsaubern's brains splattered on the nearest wall, I'm not willing to let you get killed because of it."

The corner of Buchse's lip twitched; Tsaubern's brains splattered on a wall, what a nice thought.

"If he would just . . . leave me alone," Buchse muttered. Finished shaving, he put the razor down and turned around.

"Minen!?"

While he had been otherwise occupied she had gathered the dirty garments from various corners of the room and gotten them together into a pile. She glared at him.

"I'm taking them to be washed, because gods know you won't. Where is the Buchse from the Belfar Agency who always had a clean pair of _everything_ and could practically eat off his own floor?"

"He's too damn tired to care . . ." Deciding to pick and choose his battles, Buchse let Minen be and collapsed across his cot for the second time. To his surprise, Minen sat down on the edge, her grey eyes meeting his bloodshot ones.

"I'm serious Buchse," she said, "we have to do something to convince that idiot that you're not interested in . . . people with his certain qualities."

"That I'm straight."

It was Minen's turn to raise her eyebrows, "To put it bluntly, yes." For a minute neither spoke, but they were both so accustomed to silence that it lacked the awkward quality normally present in conversation gaps.

Oddly, the first one to break the silence was Buchse.

"You going to watch me sleep too?"

Minen smirked, "Now I know you must be going insane, you're speaking in full sentences without prompting."

". . ."

"That's more like it."

". . .zzzzzz"

Buchse had finally lost the battle for consciousness. With some maneuvering, Minen got the blanket out from under the marksman's body and draped it over him. Damn, he even looked good even when he was asleep! Although Minen had to admit that seeing him like this didn't hold a candle to watching him in battle, rifle blazing fire and belching smoke, hands stained with gunpowder, face set in that grim death-glare of concentration . . . well, everyone had always said she had strange tastes.

********

_Now, how the heck are we going to convince Tsaubern that Buchse was not, is not, and never will be interested?_ Minen was walking back from dropping off Buchse's clothes to be washed, pointedly ignoring the suggestive glances and whispered comments from the servants behind her back. Let them think whatever the heck they wanted, she was sure that servant gossip had had her sleeping her way into her position in the Belfar Agency. Maybe rumors about her and Buchse would actually aide their cause . . . No, because that's all they would be; rumors.

If there was physical evidence, that would be something different. But then again, if Buchse started showing any sort of emotion towards _anyone_ in public it would immediately register as some sort of trick or conspiracy. Gods, who was she kidding, if Buchse started showing emotion it would be taken as a sign of an impending apocalypse!

"Lady Minen," a servant interrupted her mental ramblings, "you have a letter." She snatched the letter and dismissed the man with a curt nod. The parchment smelled of salt and fish, a sure sign as to its origin. Breaking the seal, she allowed her eyes to scan the rough scrawl that she knew would be present.

_Hullo there landlubber!_

_ Minen, I hope they gave this letter to you, cause if those mates of yours get ahold of it first there's no way in hell this message will reach all of you. Just letting you all know that me and my crew are hosting another of our get togethers at good ole Castle Dawnfire. Same deal as always, Wustum's cooking, we're playing, blah, blah, blah. The only thing you all have to do is come! And dress nice, that's the theme this time, we'll be trying to copy one of those fancy balls and such, I'm sure being a noble and all you know what I mean. Just come, we haven't seen all you Ritterschild fellows in seasons! Let me know if you need transportation._

_-Droman_

_PS. Don't worry about telling Tsaubern, I sent him his own letter a while back and I know he's coming. Hey, wait a minute, your excuse for not coming is always that your busy because of your duties as a member of an Imperial family, he's a member of an Imperial family too and he comes to our get togethers all the time! Why you lying, anti-social, no good ------------- Hi Minen, this is Felecca. Sorry about that, Droman was getting a bit worked up, so I stole the paper from him. But really, come! We miss you guys. Make sure to drag Buchse and Geschutz with you, one of them could be your date or something! Even though Geschutz would be kind of old and Buchse would be kind of dull, even if he is good looking because he doesn't talk a lot, but maybe that doesn't bother you since you're friends with him and all and -------------- Xebec here, Felecca was getting carried away, so I decided it was time to intervene. Well, since I don't have much space left on the page, I'll just say I hope to see you all there. By the way, the get together is on the tenth of sprout season, I see my brother forgot to mention it earlier._

Ah yes, another of Droman's infamous get togethers. He had started them during the whole One King crisis, claiming that the 'crew' of Castle Dawnfire needed to get closer. Now even after the threat was gone and most of the Starbearers had left the castle to pursue their own lives, Droman continued to plan one every couple of seasons or so. Supposedly they were well attended, Minen couldn't say for sure as neither she nor Buchse or Geschutz had attended one since their return to Ritterschild.

She read the letter over again, especially enjoying the unintended joint effort that had gone into the PS. Folding the letter, she stuffed it in her pocket. Maybe they would go this time, they really hadn't seen the others in ages. And mimicking a ball was much better than some of Droman's previous themes. Like drag. Minen still shuddered just thinking about that one.

Unbeknownst to her, Droman's letter had started an idea forming in her subconscious. Something so simple, yet so insane, that it actually just might work.

_ In my revision, I tried to make this chap sound a bit less choppy . . . not quite sure it worked. I did try to revise the whole situation with the servants._

_Review? I see there are some people reading this, please leave a review, even if it's to say that you hate it, think it's boring, poorly written and that I should be shot. But if you do leave a comment that negative, can you just tell me what you hated so I can work on it? Thanks!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, since it's two in the morning, and I'm too tired to do the actual homework that I need to finish, I decided to work on my fanfiction. My overtired, overworked, burned out, smoking brain throws out its weirdest ideas in the wee hours of the morning, so it's the perfect time to work on fanfics! _

_Thanks to __**solidsoul **__for the nice review! Don't worry, I won't end this fic until it's done, which should be in, ummmm, two or three chapters. _

_I do not own Suikoden Tierkreis or its characters. I also make no money from this fanfic, if you've paid for it, let me know who you paid and I'll hunt him/her/it down and let the Ritterschild trio use him for target practice._

"What!?" Buchse's eyebrows shot up so fast it looked like they might just fly off his forehead. Minen had just revealed her grand plan to get Tsaubern off his back, and Buchse already found himself desperately hoping she had a plan B.

Minen let out an exasperated sigh, "You'd think I asked you to jump off the roof of Castle Dawnfire the way you're acting!"

"I'm not doing that."

"Excuse me?"

"No."

Minen could have punched him. "Buchse! It's not all that bad! Just ask a girl to go with you to Droman's get together. Tsaubern will see you with the girl, realize that you are straight. Since you would no longer be of romantic interest to him, he'll leave you alone! Simple as that."

". . ."

"Come on Buchse," Minen rolled her eyes, "Do you have a better idea?"

He thought for a moment, ". . . shoot him?" Her glare told him that this did not count as a suitable plan. Shaking his head, he conceded defeat.

"That's what I thought," Minen said with a smirk. She gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder before adding, "Well you better go find someone quick, we need to leave in two days if we want to make it in time."

She started to head towards the range to shoot off a couple of rounds when she heard him mutter, ". . . it won't work."

Spinning around, she focused her death glare on his no longer bloodshot eyes. He dropped his gaze to the ground and scraped a foot along the ground absently.

"No one would go with me . . . anyway, I don't go to these kind of things."

She couldn't help it. Minen threw back her head and laughed. Buchse transferred his stare from the ground to her and cocked an eyebrow curiously. When she was able to catch her breath, Minen wheezed out, "You're oblivious aren't you! Half the female serving staff and a portion of the male would give their right eyes to have you ask them to something like this! You're a damn good looking guy Buchse, a damn good looking guy with a good heart. And that's a hell of a lot more than most of the other idiots around here have!"

Minen got the distinct feeling that if Buchse hadn't been, well, Buchse, that he would be gaping open mouthed at her right now. As it was, his eyes widened and a slight rush of color came to his cheeks. Suddenly something on his rifle seemed to require his complete attention and he busied himself with that, avoiding her amused gaze.

"If you're so worried about being rejected," she said jokingly, "I'll go with you."

His head jerked up.

". . .?"

Minen laughed, "I said, I'll go as your 'date' to the get together." Holy shot casings, did she just say that? Minen started to mentally beat herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What were you thinking? Now Buchse was going to think she was crazy too! You should have offered to ask someone for him, or, or, something! Not offer yourself!

". . . okay."

WHAT!?!?

*********

Not long after Buchse and Minen entered the range, Tsaubern pushed through the door after them. The two former Belfar Agents scowled when he entered, but that didn't dampen his mood in the slightest. Making his way over to the counter where Buchse and Minen were preparing their guns, he squeezed between them and put an arm around each of their shoulders.

"Hey there Minen, Bushey-boy. How's it going?" although he addressed both of them, he directed the question at Buchse.

Great until you showed up. "We're fine Tsaubern. Now would you mind removing yourself from our shoulders?" Minen grumbled. Tsuabern took his arms off, but in the process brought himself to stand even closer to Buchse. He positioned himself so that it looked like he was looking over Buchse's shoulder at the gun on the counter.

"So Buchse," Said marksman jumped and almost cracked his head on one of the lights hung over the counter. Tsaubern's voice had been _inches_ away from his ear! Spinning around, he found Tsaubern's face less than a foot away from his own. As usual, the pale haired man didn't understand the concept of personal space.

Reaching behind him, Buchse grabbed his rifle.

"Move."

With a teasing grin, Tsaubern obliged, moving aside just enough so that Buchse could stalk past him to the shooting line. Minen brushed past as well, taking a spot on the line next to Buchse.

"As I was going to say," Tsaubern remarked, "Have you heard about this next get together Droman's having?"

". . . yes."

"And will I see you there?"

". . . yes."

Tsaubern looked shocked for a second, but recovered quickly, "Grand! Well, if you need someone to chat with, hang out with, maybe show you a few dance moves, I'll be there too!" He changed his expression to a coy grin, "You know, we could go together . . ."

For once, Buchse did not look shaken after Tsaubern's flirting. He calmly went over his gun one last time.

"Already going with someone."

Tsaubern's jaw dropped. He clamped it shut almost immediately, but there was no doubt, it had dropped.

"Mind if I ask who?"

Buchse raised his rifle up, aiming carefully at the target down the range. Next to him, he caught Minen's roguish smile as she raised her pistols as well. Three fingers tightened on triggers as the shooters lined up their sights. Buchse allowed himself a small smirk.

"Minen."

BANGBANGBANG – dingdingding

_Well, an hour and a half of overtired overload and here we are! What do you think? I know that this fic is dialogue heavy, I'm sorry for that. I'll try to put less talking and more action in the next chapter. Review? Please? _


	4. Chapter 4

_ Haha! I'm baaack! I'm ahead with work and have a free night, so . . . I'm back in business! _

_ Thanks to __**solidsoul**__ and __**Wyl**__ for their kind reviews and constructive criticism. _

_ I do not own Suikoden Tierkreis or the characters. Although I wish I did, then I could make my own game that was actually a challenge and you learned more about the characters! I also make no money from this fanfic, if you have paid for it I suggest you hire a thief to steal your money back for you._

*&*&*&*&

If the silent marksman had ever been in a more uncomfortable situation during his twenty six years, he was having trouble recalling it. The dining hall was packed with Starbearers, most of them talking and laughing with friends they hadn't seen since the last of Droman's gatherings. Even Geschutz was shooting the breeze with the old innkeeper from Greyridge. Buchse tugged at the high collar of his overcoat, some royal blue contraption that Minen had hunted down for him, with designs stitched in gold thread covering the seams and edges. Not the sort of thing he would have picked out for himself, not by a long shot. Too bright. Much, much too bright. The whole ensemble, from the overcoat to the matching set of dress pants (also procured by Minen) screamed for attention. Even the high black boots he wore were bright, shining as they were from the recent polishing. No, not the sort of attire he would have chosen.

He saw a bit of red out of the corner of his eye and heard a mild curse. Quickly, he forced his eyes to focus on a spot near the center of the currently unoccupied area Droman had designated as a dance floor.

"You okay?" Minen asked, taking in the sight of his tenser than normal face.

All while keeping his gaze focused on that unremarkable patch of stone, Buchse replied, "I feel so . . . exposed."

"Same here," Minen growled. Without the familiar weight of their guns, the two former Belfar Agents felt as vulnerable as kittens. A feeling that neither of them was used to or comfortable with.

"Soon as this thing is over," she muttered while sending a vicious glare at the Droman pirates, "I'm shooting their sail so full of holes wind from a Havoc Cyclone won't be able to move her."

". . . I'm shooting a hole in the hull."

Minen couldn't help smirking. Who said Buchse didn't have a sense of humor? And who said there was no humor in revenge?

Throughout their brief exchange, Buchse made sure to keep his eyes trained on that spot on the dance floor. Or on another group of people. Or some stones in the wall. Or the moonlight on the lake outside the window. Anywhere _but _the woman standing beside him. He didn't often think of her as a woman. His partner, yes. His friend, certainly. Who happened to be female. But never a woman.

It was impossible _not_ to see her as a woman tonight. She wore a dress the same color as her cloak, a darkish red, form fitting at the top and loose from the hips down. Old fashioned, she called it. Something she'd snatched from her mother's closest, since she had long ago gotten rid of any dresses she might have owned. Buchse called it . . . unnerving . . . disconcerting . . . stunning . . .

He had made the mistake of looking at her, earlier that evening. He'd been waiting in the hall, waiting for her to come out so they could arrive in the dining hall together, like the couple they were pretending to be. When the door had finally opened, and he saw her there . . . he could not speak. Even if he had wanted to, the words would not have come. As his eyes glanced over this _person _(somehow he could not quite believe it was really Minen) he felt his knees grow weak and something in his stomach start to churn. His heart rate sped up, as did his breathing. It felt like something . . . out of control . . . an open, defenseless feeling. He wasn't sure he liked it. No, not sure he liked it at all.

It was easier if he didn't look at her. The voice was all her, all Minen. Nothing different about her voice. He could pretend that she wasn't in that red dress, that the flashes of red he saw were only her cloak. He had managed to stop the weakness in his knees and get his breathing under control. But his stomach continued to twist. And whenever she spoke, he felt his heart rate spike.

"Hey," she said, "look at that." Desperately trying to ignore his thudding heart, he looked in the direction she indicated. And almost laughed. He had to turn the rising chuckle into a surprised cough to save face. Daring to take the slightest glance at Minen out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she had a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle snickers and hide her amused smile.

Across the room, Droman and Asad were staring each other down, each with a fierce, determined expression on their face. The two red heads' faces were a mere six inches apart, eyes sending out unfaltering, unblinking death glares to assault the other without mercy. Each combatant was flanked by two loudly cheering allies: Droman had his siblings while Asad was supported by his sub-commanders.

Asad squinted his right eye. The corner of Droman's mouth turned up in half of a leering grin. Asad twitched his nose like a rabbit. Droman made his eyes widen. Asad arched his eyebrows so high, they almost came together. Droman's face, and his eyelids, suddenly relaxed.

Then he pursed his lips and puffed a stream of air straight at Asad's triumphant sapphire orbs, making the lean redhead blink reflexively.

"HAR-HAR!" Droman laughed jubilantly, "Ya blinked ya weak willed land lubber!"

"Not fair!" Asad protested, "You cheated!"

The fun loving pirate captain just laughed at him. "All's fair in love an' war!"

"And staring contests!" Felecca chimed in. The pirate trio had a good laugh while the former Magedom soldiers protested half heartedly.

"Now you know our bet," Droman reminded Asad, "I expect you to hold up your end of it!"

The lean red head paled and Buchse and Minen could hear his gulp from across the room. But after a moment he straightened his shoulders and held his head high.

"I'm a man of my word Droman," he said shakily, "you don't have to be worried."

"Hmm," Minen muttered, "wonder what that was all about?"

Buchse shrugged. It was anyone's guess what went on in that crazy pirate's head. Said crazy pirate and his equally crazy sister (Xebec seemed to be the only sane one in that family, poor fellow) had climbed up onto a raised platform that served as a stage and struck up a slow tune, Droman on the fiddle and Felecca strumming away on her guitar. It was nowhere near the professionalism of Ramin's playing, but it wasn't bad. And more importantly, it didn't make everyone want to beat each other into a bloody pulp.

Normally it took people a couple of songs to get up the courage to go out on the floor, but tonight the pirate duo had barely gotten halfway through their first tune when a couple made their way onto the clear area. This time Buchse couldn't help himself and let out a barking laugh when he beheld the expressions on the couple's faces.

Asad and Chrodechild were very aware that every single set of eyes was trained on them, making what in itself would have been a nerve wracking situation into something even worse. Asad's look of abject terror combined with surprised joy was enough to make even the hardest hearted man snicker, but combined with Chrodechild's own curious, yet nervous face was what coaxed the rare laugh from Buchse's throat. The fact that they were fumbling while nervously trying to get their hands into the correct positions just made the whole thing better.

He heard Minen let out her own short laugh from beside him. "I'm going to go ask what the heck is going on," she told him softly, "Fireball doesn't have the guts to outright ask, something must have happened."

He nodded, both to agree with her and communicate he was fine with her information gathering expedition. As she stalked across the hall towards Asad's sub-comanders and the steadily growing crowd around them and the members of the Astrasian court, he made sure to keep his eyes focused on the nervous couple who had finally sorted out their hand positions and were starting to move to the music.

So intent was he on watching _them_ and not _her_ that he did not notice the telltale clicks of boot heels approaching from behind.

"They make a cute couple, don't they, Buchsey-boy?"

Buchse leapt like a startled rabbit, shying away a good four feet before spinning to face the owner of the voice that had spoken _right in his ear_! Damnit he had felt the tickle of air on his earlobe! Tsaubern was standing practically on top of the spot he had just vacated, a teasing grin on his face. How had he let him get that close!

Tsuabern quickly glanced at the dancing couple before returning his teasing eyes to Buchse. "They're a bit awkward, but not bad," he said with a grin, "You know, I bet you would be a great dancer . . ."

Buchse tried to hold on to the last thread of dignity (and sanity) he had left. _Be strong_, he told himself, _it's only words. Words that mean nothing. Imagine you have your rifle with you and you just shot him. Now his brains are splattered all over the wall. Yes, keep that image, keep that ima--._

"You've really got the body for it," Tsaubern said with a sly smirk, "I could teach you some slow dances . . ."

His eye, the one covered by the tattoo, twitched. So did his trigger finger.

"Gotta go talk to Minen," he muttered quickly, before practically running across the hall, away from the pale haired noble who was making his life _hell_.

&*&*&*&*&*

_My apologies for any OOCness that occurred during this chapter. I always pictured Droman and Felecca (but mostly Droman) as extremely, uhh, eccentric would be nice word. Slightly nuts would be another description. Think the class troublemaker from fourth grade that grew up but never grew out of his troublesomeness. As for Asad . . . no comment, in my head he's always super shy towards anything remotely serious in romantic terms with Chrodechild. He'll do some harmless flirting, if you could even call it that, (like in the game) but anything past that and he's scared to pieces. And now that she's his queen it's even worse. At least, that's how I see it._

_ How was Buchse in this chap? I'm trying to make it seem like he's feeling something, but is still in character, did I succeed? Next chap will be more of Minen's point of view, we'll get to see what she thinks of Buchse in that "contraption" she found for him. *cue evil laugh*_

_ Review? Reviews make me very happy. And if I get enough, I may be persuaded to put out the next chap of this before I put out the next one for Of Sketchpads and Shadows . . . Or I might just do it anyway, I have the next chap for this all planned out, OSAS's next chap is kinda up in the air._


	5. Chapter 5

_So sorry for the lateness of this chapter! I had it written about two weeks ago, but it was choppy and awful, so I needed to revise it. And with finals and the holidays, I just never got around to doing it until now. Sorry! _

_ A huge thanks to __**Wyl**__ and __**Antismurf Lord of Darkness**__ for the uplifting reviews!_

_ I do not own Suikoden Tierkreis, if I did I would have made it so that you had more chances to use the 100+ characters they give you! I also make no money from this fanfic, if you have paid for it, I'm sure there's an out of work mercenary out there who will hunt down the person you paid and get your money back._

*&*&*&*&*&

As Minen turned away from Nakil and Hafin, she nearly collided with a narrow heaving chest covered in royal blue fabric with gold embellishments.

"Busche!" she hollered, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

The silent marksman didn't answer, instead he simply stood there, chest heaving, eye twitching convulsively, and barely repressed shudders coursing through his overly tense body.

"Busche," Minen repeated, "What's wrong?" She had never, _ever_ seen him like this!

When he did speak, his voice was a strained whisper, "Minen . . . Help. Me," breathing ragged, eyes wild, he continued, "I'm going to kill him . . . please . . . distract me . . . something . . . anything!"

With each word Busche's voice rose in pitch, with his final plead of "anything" coming out as an almost hysterical moan.

"Busche! BUSCHE!" But the tall marksman was not listening to her. Gods, he wasn't even _looking _at her! Just standing there, shaking with repressed, something, staring at some spot above her head.

"Busche, look at me!" when he did not comply, Minen's hand shot up and grasped his chin, _forcing_ the man to look down at her. His grey eyes met with hers for no more than a second before he squeezed them shut. What was wrong with him tonight!

Her long time friend and partner's behavior was disturbing Minen more than she cared to admit. Without releasing Busche's chin, she whispered desperately, "Look at me, Busche. Please."

He stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

"Damnit! Look at me Captain! And that's an order!" she hadn't meant to sound so rough, but it did the trick. Busche's habit of obedience was too strong, and at the order his eyes popped open. When they met with Minen's, he could feel all those strange feelings he had been trying to avoid all night building quickly. The weak knees, the pounding heart, the rapid breathing, the twisting stomach . . . gods how he hated it!

But yet . . . it felt better than whatever Tsaubern had elicited. Much better in fact. So much better that he allowed his eyes to roam a little, moving over Minen's face and slowly downward, taking in the sight of her in that . . . stunning . . . dress for the first real time that night. With each new detail he noticed, the way the fabric fell over her shoulders, the simple designs stitched around the dress's neck, the way her calloused fingers still held his jaw in a near death grip, the stronger those feelings became. And the stronger those feelings became, the further away it pushed whatever twisted emotion Tsaubern evoked.

As she watched the tension leave Busche's body and wild look vacate his eyes, Minen mentally sighed her relief. Whatever that was the Busche had been feeling, she never wanted him to have to experience it again. The silent marksman had been so close to losing his prided self control it had been terrifying. Curiously, she watched his eyes move slowly in their sockets, not away from her, but over her.

_Is he . . . what is he doing?_

As his eyes traveled, she could see him grow even more relaxed. Through her fingers, she felt the muscles around his jaw unclench, then twitch slightly, as if rebelling against her touch. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she released him and lowered her hand.

"Better?" she inquired.

He nodded, "Much."

Satisfied that he was telling the truth, Minen decided to find out what exactly Tsaubern had done (it had to be Tsaubern) that pushed Busche so close to the edge.

"What the hell did he do?" she said bluntly.

Busche gritted his teeth, not even wanting to think about it. What Tsaubern had said had not been much different than normal, but for some reason something in him had nearly snapped tonight. Had Minen not been here, he was sure that it _would_ have snapped and Ritterschild would now be short one son of a noble family.

"He . . . snuck up on me . . . then started to say his normal crap . . . and . . ." for some reason he found his voice dropping down to an ashamed mutter, "offered to teach me to dance, because he thought I would look good on the dance floor."

Minen's right fist slammed into the palm of her other hand. Damn Tsaubern! Damn him, damn him, DAMN him! Didn't he get it? Was he so thick that he couldn't see that Busche was NOT INTERESTED, and that his constant teasing was driving the stoic marksman off the deep end?

Without warning her hand shot out again, this time grabbing one of his equally callused ones. "Come on," she growled, tugging him towards the dance floor, where a few other couples had joined in the Astrasian queen and the former Magedom commander.

"Minen, what!?"

Ignoring her friend's halfhearted attempts to resist, she continued to drag him onward. "We're going to prove Tsaubern right; that you do look darn good out on the dance floor! Dancing with a woman!"

Busche made strangled yelping sound and tried to jerk his hand out of Minen's clutches. But to no avail, her grip was like a vice and she continued to haul him along until they were finally on the very edge of the dance floor, where she halted and turned to look at her partner. He stared back at her with pleading eyes; _please don't make me do this_.

"Can you think of a better way to show him that you prefer women?" Minen said with a smirk. After a brief moment of thought, Busche realized that he could not. Admitting defeat, Busche hesitantly put his free hand on her waist and raised the one that she still held into the position of a simple dance hold. She replied by resting her free hand on his shoulder and changing the grip with her other to make the hold more comfortable. The hold put Busche much closer to Minen than he had been all night, and her proximity was making all of those feelings multiply tenfold.

_Focus! Damn you, focus! Look at her eyes, they are the same. And . . . and, get her to talk! Yes, get her to talk so you can concentrate on her voice. That's the same too . . ._

As they started to move into a very simple dance, Busche managed to stutter, "Ah . . . would you mind, um, talking a little?"

Minen chuckled silently. That was Busche, always grand at starting conversations.

"Think it would make things a little less awkward?" she said with a smile. Busche quickly bobbed his head up and down.

_Well, anything to get him to relax a little_. As soon as they had begun to dance, Busche had tensed up again and was going through the motions with the coordination and grace of a rusty robot.

Figuring that she might as well begin with an interesting bit of new information, she began, "I was right, Fireball didn't have the guts to ask Chrodechild on his own."

Busche looked at her curiously, then glanced at the now very relaxed (and very happy) couple in question at the center of the dance floor.

"It was a wager. If he lost that weird as hell staring contest with Captain Nut Case then he would have to ask her to dance."

Busche snorted in amusement, "Bet he's happy he lost."

Surprised laughter carried through the Great Hall as a suddenly courageous Asad dipped Chrodechild backwards, the Astrasian queen's head coming remarkably close to the floor before he lifted her upright again.

"If that's anything to go by, I'd say it's the best defeat he's ever had."

The talking really had seemed to help the silent marksman relax. Though he was by no means fancy, he had started to move in time with the music with a kind of cat like smoothness. And, was that? The edge of a smile? Was Busche, by some impossible chance . . . enjoying this?

They moved together over the dance floor, doing a simple dance, one that could be applied to nearly every slow song in existence. Busche kept his eyes focused on Minen's, but to his dismay, without her voice to concentrate on his mind was starting to wander. It strayed off into an unwanted direction, the one that made him notice exactly how far apart they were (had she moved closer to him during the dance?) and every point of contact they had with each other's bodies. Thinking how . . . nice, the contact felt. How maybe if he held her a little closer it would be even nicer. This kind of thinking was making his heart pound so loud that he was _sure_ that she must be able to hear it.

Maybe if he spoke he could keep his mind occupied.

"You . . . look very nice tonight, Minen." He could have shot himself. Of course, he talks to try and take his mind away from the woman in his arms and the only thing he can think of to say is about her. Smart, really smart.

She looked at him with a surprised, but pleased expression, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

"You found the suit . . ." he muttered, not comfortable in the direction this conversation was going.

Minen let out an exasperated breath. "Busche, you'd look nice in practically anything! I personally think that you look damn good when you're in your battle gear and covered in gunpowder and smoke that your ancient automatic spews whenever you use it. So just take the compliment alre- . . . shit."

When she realized what had just left her mouth, she bowed her head to hide the rare rush of blood filling her cheeks. His shoulder jerked under her hand, an uncertain jerk, as if the tall man was unsure of what to do with the compliment he had been given.

Blessedly, Busche broke the awkward silence, the first one the two had experienced, between them. "I like my ancient automatic," he said softly.

Minen looked up at her partner and friend, the faintest traces of a blush still on her cheeks, and smiled at his slightly confused, slightly nervous expression. "I like it too," she replied, choosing to go the confident route and play along with her previous slip up, "It makes you look darn good."

The silent marksman looked at her with those 'deer caught in torchlight' expression for a good ten seconds before the impossible happened. His mouth curled into a genuine smile.

". . . Thank you."

At some point in their awkward exchange of compliments, they had stopped dancing.

"Oy, you two!" Droman yelled, "If yer just going to stand there get off the floor, yer taking up space!"

Thinking that her silent partner would take that as an excuse to flee, Minen was pleasantly surprised when Busche took a step to the side and back, pulling her with him into the beginnings of a slightly more complicated dance they had been shown years ago by an older officer in the Belfar Agency who had had one too many at the annual Midwinter's Eve celebration. It had been so long ago, and neither one of them had been exactly sober at the time, so the memory of the proper steps was fuzzy at best. Their feet made conflicting motions, more often than not resulting in the partners tripping over one another. The dance was anything but graceful and refined, but for some reason both of the sharpshooters were enjoying it much more than their previous one.

Minen stumbled over her own feet (or maybe it was Busche's) and would have fallen, but Busche instinctively held her up and helped her out of the stumble, unintentionally bringing her towards his body. As he held her shoulders, steadying her, Minen realized just how close they actually were. Close enough to see her own image reflected in his eyes. Close enough to feel the air vibrate with one of his rare soft laughs. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

It was the proximity that first gave her the idea. "Hey, Busche."

"Hmm?" he replied, caught up in the strange feelings he got from being so close to her. He did not know when he had stopped thinking of them as unpleasant.

"I think I know something that will really convince Tsaubern of your disinterest in him." At the mention of his nemesis's name Busche cast a glance over the spectators, locating the pale haired noble rather easily. Of course he was staring right at them, a look of interest on his face.

"What?" He would do _anything_ to get the infuriating nobleman to leave him alone!

"Just hold still," Minen told him.

_Wha---_

Busche's world stopped when Minen, his partner, the person he trusted most, his shooting buddy, his employer's daughter, the person he had traveled the world with, his friend, tilted her head back and gently placed her lips against his own.

How long they stayed that way, Busche did not know. He had lost all concept of anything outside of the feeling of her soft lips on his. His body was screaming at him to kiss back, to move his mouth against hers, to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, to do _something_! But he could not, so stunned he was by the simple feeling of the kiss.

She pulled back all too soon, her face a mask of embarrassment. Offering him a last smile, she pulled away and walked straight out of the Great Hall, leaving him feeling lost.

Empty.

Alone.

Wishing, praying, hoping against hope, that his friend, his partner, the person he trusted most in the world would turn around and come back.

Because, for the one time in his life that he could remember, he did not want to be alone.

_*&*&*&*&*&_

_Hmm, should I leave you all there? Naw, I'm not that mean. The next, and final, chap will come! When, I don't know, but it will come! Reviews are greatly appreciated. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, I was wrong. This is not the last chapter of the fic, it is the second to last. I swear, I tried, but I found such a good place to end it! I briefly introduce the leader of the Company, in my game I called him Ricard (FFII, after the awesome dragoon, why did they have to kill him ONE DUNGEON after you meet him??), so that's what he's called here._

_ Thanks to __**Wyl**__, the single most helpful reviewer I've had for any of my stories. Thank you for pointing out my horrific error, for the past five chapters, I've been misspelling Buchse's name . . . But now, that is fixed! _

_ I don't own Suikoden Tierkreis, I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. Of course, when I' m done with them the company might not want them back . . . Then can I keep them??? I also make no money from this fanfic, if you've paid for it, I'd hunt down the person who charged you and- well, you think of a punishment._

&*&*&*&*&

Exiting the Great Hall as quickly as she could without attracting attention, the Ritterschild markswoman made her way up the stairs on the top floor of Castle Dawnfire coming out on the roof. Just as she had hoped, the broad expanse of stone was deserted. Lurching towards the west end, where Ouragan normally skulked about, she folded her knees and settled herself down (quite a feat in that blasted dress), leaning her back against a low wall. A perfect position; from here she would be invisible to anyone coming up the stairs or standing on the main part of the roof.

Letting her head fall back, she didn't even wince as it hit the stone with a thump.

"What was I thinking," she groaned.

&*&*&*&*&

Turning slowly, Buchse walked off the dance floor and over to the most shadowed corner he could find. He needed to think. To compose his thoughts. To formulate a plan. To figure out _what the hell to do_. But the only thoughts his mind could muster up consisted of Minen. And they weren't coherent, useful thoughts either. Just a compilation of feelings. Images. Longing . . .

Damn, what he really needed was to clean his gun.

The ancient automatic was due for a total breakdown and going over . . . Gods, now even thinking of his guns brought about those feelings he had experienced tonight!

From behind, he could hear the clicks of boot heels coming steadily closer. _I'm in the shadows, facing into a corner, everything about me is telling you to go away._ But the sound just got louder as the person continued to approach. Finally, the clicking stopped, about six feet away by the silent marksman's estimation.

"Ah, Buchse," a dreadfully familiar voice said uncertainly, "can I speak with you?"

&*&*&*&*&

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she hissed at herself. This was Buchse she was dealing with, Buchse! The silent sharpshooter was her friend, nothing more. And tonight? Tonight was simply supposed to be a favor for a friend. An act. A deception.

Then why the hell did it feel like something so much more? Out on the dance floor, for once in her life, she had actually _enjoyed_ playing the stereotypical woman's role; being held and protected by a man. _Because that man was Buchse_. Whenever the corners of his eyes wrinkled in his silent version of a laugh it had made her smile. And when he had actually let out one of his rare, soft chuckles an excited thrill had raced down her spine. But when she had somehow convinced herself it was a good idea to kiss him . . .

That was when she knew she had gone too far. When she realized that at that moment in time, the thing she wanted most in the world was for her friend and former partner to kiss her back.

What was wrong with her?! This wasn't her, she was Minen, the untouchable, frigid, former employee of the Belfar Agency. She put bullets through men's foreheads without a second thought and had been ready and willing to shoot, lie, cheat, and steal to get her country's Chronicle back from the Magedom. Relationships, significant others, love; she had long ago accepted that those things just weren't meant for her.

And now there was this. This . . . attraction . . . she felt towards the tall silent marksman who had been her partner for six grueling years. Who had remained her friend even after the disbanding of the Agency. Who was now probably so embarrassed that he wouldn't be able to speak to anyone for a good month. Whose image flitted through her mind even as she berated herself for thinking about him.

_Gods be damned, what the hell is wrong with me tonight?_

&*&*&*&*&*&

". . ." Never in his life did Buchse find himself wanting a person to _just go away_ than he did now.

". . ."

". . ." Still no boot clicks heading away.

". . ."

". . ." If he didn't turn around and leave in the next twenty seconds, Buchse wouldn't need a gun to splatter the fool's brains across the wall.

". . ."

". . ." Fifteen, fourteen . . .

". . ."

". . ." Six, five, four . . .

". . . you do know I was only teasing?"

What was this now? Slowly, making sure to keep his hands balled into fists and stuffed into the pockets of his suit, Buchse turned around to face the demon that had made the last few months of his life utter hell.

Tsaubern stood staring at the floor between them, dragging one foot back and forth across the tiles. All his normal cockiness was gone, replaced by something that Buchse couldn't quite figure out.

"All the poking, tickling, flirting, jokes. I was just trying to get a reaction out of you."

Buchse couldn't believe it, ". . . excuse me?"

"Well, you're such a stick in the mud," Tsaubern explained his arrogant nature returning in an instant, "I find it extremely amusing to get _any_ kind of emotion out of you! And let's face it; flirting is pretty much the only thing that will! Not that I'm not attracted to you, you are damn good looking and you have a good heart. But it's painfully obvious that you have _zero_ interest in men! Much to my disappointment, of course."

_Damn good looking with a good heart . . . that's how Minen described me . . . _That single thought was the only thing that kept him from leaping across the six foot space that separated him from the noble and smashing the man's head open on the nearest available hard surface.

"What . . . prompted . . . this . . ." Buchse managed to hiss between clenched teeth.

Sensing the marksman's underlying fury, Tsaubern took a step back. "Well, ah, don't shoot the messenger but . . . Anya _may_ have heard what Minen said to you when she was dragging you onto the dance floor and _may_ have told Moanna who _may _have pu_t_ two and two together and _may _have come up with their own conclusion as to what you were doing and the two of them _may _have told the entire current population of Castle Dawnfire. To make a long story short . . . I found out about your plan."

Three bullets. That's all he needed. Three. Bullets. Two to take care of the insidious castle gossips and one to finish the pale haired noble who was getting further and further down death row with every word that came out of his mouth.

"If it makes you feel any better, the general consensus is that the idea was very sweet. It has what girls like to call, the awww factor. There were some dissenters; Zahra and Roberto didn't see the point in going through an elaborate scheme when you could have told me point blank and Geschutz thought you should have just shot me. But everyone else thought it was cute."

". . ."

"Um, Buchse?"

". . ."

"I know you must be pissed, but FOR ONCE can you say SOMETHING instead of just glaring at me like you want to rip my throat out with your teeth."

". . . shoot you . . ." Buchse muttered.

"What?"

"Shoot you," Buchse spoke a little louder, tilting his head so that he was staring into Tsaubern's pale blue eyes, "I don't want to rip your throat out . . ."

With long, slow strides, Buchse started to circle around the pale haired noble so that their positions were reversed. Now Tsaubern was the one closest to the corner while Buchse was between him and the rest of the room.

"Now, now Buchse, it was just a little joke," Tsaubern said nervously, "no harm done, right?"

Every man had a breaking point. A point where enough was enough, a point where they just can't take something any longer. Buchse had reached that point. After months of repressing his anger and resentment, he had finally reached that point. But this wasn't a simple break or snap.

It was an explosion.

With two final strides Buchse brought himself closer to Tsaubern than he had ever voluntarily been before. Taking a double handful of the noble's shirt, Buchse lifted him off his feet and slammed his back against the stone wall.

"I want to pump your corpse so full of lead that it becomes a hazard to nature," Buchse roared, "I want my bullets to punch so many holes in you that I could hang your body from a tree, look up and see the constellations through your abdomen!"

Disregarding the total silence behind him which almost certainly meant that every eye in the place was resting on him, Buchse brought his face so close to the pale haired noble's that he could feel the exhaled air from the terrified man's panting breaths rushing over the bridge of his nose.

"But most of all," he snarled, "I want to put a couple of explosive rounds through those blind as a rock eyes of yours and watch as whatever you have that passes for a brain blows out your skull and decorates the nearest wall!"

With a growl, Buchse unclenched his fists and released his hold on the pale haired noble allowing the quivering mess to drop to the floor. "You're damn lucky I have a friend who cares about my well being. Otherwise you would have been dead long before this."

Out of the corner of his eye Buchse could see several of the assembled party approaching him cautiously. The Wolf Company protected its own, and despite his irritating ways, Tsaubern was indeed a part of the pack. Jale, his mother Selena, and, of course, Ricard wove quickly through the crowd towards the two Ritterschild men. Ricard had borrowed someone's walking stick and was gripping it loosely about the center of the shaft, ready to use it in place of a fighter's staff at a moment's notice. The other two had no need of such precautions, as marital artists it was impossible to separate them from their weapons of choice: their fists.

"Buchse, just calm down now," Ricard said evenly, "no need to get violent, right?"

The tall marksman ignored the Company commander, instead turning his full attention back to the pale haired noble at his feet who was still trying to catch his breath. "What you really are," he growled, dropping his voice low enough so only himself and Tsaubern could hear, "is damn lucky that this whole affair made me realize how much_ I _care about afore stated friend."

To Tsaubern, and indeed, the entire assembled Company's shock, the silent marksman bent down and helped the noble to his feet. Looking his now thoroughly confused mortal enemy in the eyes Buchse stated simply, "For that all I can say is . . . thank you."

Silence reigned. Not a person spoke, nor a garment rustled. The calls of night creatures were mysteriously missing. Not even a gust of wind rustled the leaves outside the windows. Complete, utter silence. Only broken by the steady thump, thump of the tall sharpshooter's boot soles as he crossed the floor to exit the hall.

&*&*&*&

_Not quite what I planned, but I think it worked! First I tried to write a scene where Tsuabern is very apologetic and ends up convincing Buchse to go after Minen. But I had trouble keeping the two in character while doing it. And actually writing the thing. This seemed slightly more logical, if a bit out of character for Buchse. I figure he has to blow up some time, and after the events of the night something like this would be the last straw. And since it is so out of character for him, the other Starbearers don't even know what to do! _

_Next chapter WILL be the last. Of that I'm sure. There is no chance that will change. I swear it. Really, I do. Reviews are welcome!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry for disappearing for a while. Professors piled on the work, then I got caught up in an idea for a long chaptered fic that just wouldn't let me go . . . Speaking of long chaptered fics, would anyone be interested in betaing a Final Fantasy VI/King Arthur crossover??? _

_ As always, a huge thank you to __**Wyl**__, my most helpful reviewer. _

_ I do not own Suikoden Tierkreis or its characters, if I did there would most definitely be a sequel in the works, one where we learn some more about the characters. I also do not make any money from this story, if you have paid for it you have been had._

_ And now I present to you the final (I mean it this time) chapter._

&*&*&

Minen almost cursed when she heard the thumping of boots on the stone steps leading up to the roof. She had hoped to be left _alone_ for the rest of the night. Although she guessed she was lucky that it was the noise of only a single pair of boots, she had no desire to be around whilst a pair of company members sought out some "private time" away from the party.

The thumping paused, from the sound of it right at the top of the stairwell. _I have no need to worry_, she thought, _it's impossible to see me from anywhere on that side of the roof._ But against all odds, when the noise of boot soles on stone started up again it was headed right towards her. She set her chin down on arms folded over drawn up knees, still hoping that whoever it was would just turn back around.

It was only thanks to her years of training that she did not show any outward reaction to the familiar voice behind her.

"Minen?" Buchse said softly. He was leaning over the wall separating the lower west end of the roof from the main platform, peering down at his long time friend. And he did not like what he saw. She was curled up as small as she could get without being in a fetal position, sitting the corner where the short set of stairs met the wall. Only once had he seen her looking this . . . _vulnerable_. That had been years ago, when she was a relatively new member of the Belfar Agency and had lost her first partner in a routine mission gone horribly wrong. But why was she looking like this _now_?

She tilted her head back and met his gaze, acknowledging that she heard him. They stayed like that for a while, him looking down at her, her looking up at him, neither really wanting to speak nor knowing the words to use if they did.

Finally Buchse broke the silence, ". . . May I sit?"

Still not trusting herself to talk, Minen simply nodded, then set her chin on her arms again. Rather than take the stairs, Buchse chose a more direct route down, swinging his legs over the wall and dropping down next to her with a light thud. The silent marksman lowered himself to the stones and sat down cross-legged about an arm's length away.

The silence between the two sharpshooters was laced with tension and discomfort, something neither of them were used to. Their silences had always been comfortable, with both of them not being huge fans of unnecessary conversation they had never needed words to feel at ease around each other. It also helped that after six years as partners in the Belfar Agency, they could read each other's body language as easily as speaking. But tonight that advantage was gone. All Buchse could gather from Minen was that something was _wrong_. And she couldn't even discern that much about him, he was giving off too many mixed and unknown signals.

"I can't find the Hunter," she tipped her head up, indicating the star-strewn night sky, desperate to say _anything _ that would get rid of this blasted silence! "The stars are all in different places this side of the sea."

Buchse tilted his head up to look at the sky as well, grateful to have something besides the . . . stunning . . . woman next to him to concentrate on. It took him a few moments of scanning the expanse of shining pinpoints to locate the errant constellation.

"There," he said simply, pointing to a cluster of stars in the eastern part of the sky.

Of course he would find it. He _was_ the best sharpshooter in the Belfar Agency, probably in all of Ritterschild, for a reason. Not that she had actually been looking for those particular stars, it had just been the first constellation that came to mind.

"Moon's bright tonight," she said, again just something to stop that uncomfortable silence from taking over, "It's almost like daylight up here." He nodded, still keeping his eye fixed on the stars above.

Silence. Again that thick, unbearable silence. Buchse found himself wishing desperately for one of his guns, just so that he could keep his hands occupied. He unconsciously fiddled with the gilded buttons of his overcoat, mulling over possible things to say . . . but he just couldn't seem to find the right words!

This was why he liked shooting so much; every step was simple and neatly ordered, and if you followed those steps perfectly you were guaranteed to hit the middle. It was simple. Things like this didn't come with neatly ordered steps or guarantees. How the heck was he supposed to tell her how he felt? Was he even supposed to tell her how he felt? The last thing he wanted was to lose her friendship, would that happen if he told her? If it did . . . he would make sure Tsaubern's death was long and slow. And painful. Very, very painful. No mercy shots.

While his thoughts had turned to Tsaubern, Buchse's hands tightened mechanically into fists. Mistaking this as a sign of frustration or anger towards the situation in general, Minen hung her head and muttered something into her folded arms.

"What?" Buchse asked, not having caught the mumbled words.

Minen lifted her head from her arms, but did not dare turn to face him. She couldn't let him see whatever crazy emotion her face would betray.

"I'm sorry."

It was one of the few times that Buchse could recall that he did not voluntarily lapse into silence: he was shocked into it. He turned his body so that he was facing Minen and just stared. And saw. He saw not only the stunning woman in the red dress, but also the person who had been his best friend for years, the one whose eyes flashed in fierce joy with every report of her pistols in a firefight, the one he had trained with, fought with, bled with, killed with. He saw Minen. And suddenly everything he had been feeling that night multiplied, the feelings merging together, coming to a center as a tight, _powerful_, sensation in his chest.

"What for?" he asked.

Minen almost twisted her head to stare at him incredulously, but managed to stop herself at the last second. "For putting you in a most uncomfortable position tonight," she replied after a moment of thought, "There was no need for the ruse to go that far." She let out a harsh, humorless laugh.

_Ruse . . . it was all supposed to be a ruse_. But Buchse knew that what he had been feeling all night had been no ruse. It was painfully real.

"I . . . you . . . the," he faltered for words. This time Minen really did look at him, Buchse may not have been one for talking, but whenever he chose to do so it was done with confidence and **no** stuttering. Focusing on the steady pounding of his heart, Buchse took a deep breath and spoke the only thing he could- the truth.

"Tonight . . . the times I was uncomfortable were not your fault."

Minen's eyes clouded in confusion. Confusion that quickly cleared. She snorted and looked away. "The whole mess was Tsaubern's doing, but I'm the one who took things too far," she said sardonically.

"That's not what I meant," he said in a soft growl. Reaching out, he gently cupped his hand under Minen's chin and turned her head in his direction. "That's not what I meant . . ."

"Then what did you mean," she countered, reaching up to grab his arm and pull his hand away from her face. Still feeling like he needed to hold on to her somehow, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist in return. To his relief, Minen didn't seem to mind, because she was neither pulling away nor releasing her own grip.

_What are you doing Buchse?_ Minen thought as she felt his callused hand take hold of her wrist. Normally she considered herself to be an expert at reading her silent partner, but tonight she was finding it impossible! His body language said he was nervous, his voice was confused one moment insistent the next, the physical contact could be considered either a show of confidence or a need for support . . . it was ridiculous!

"I . . ." Buchse began, lowering his head as if in shame, "I don't know . . . what I'm trying to say is . . . once I got used to seeing you . . . like that . . . the times I was with you were the only times I _was not_ uncomfortable."

Minen cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Seeing me 'like that'?" Her partner quickly turned to look in the opposite direction, but not even his quick actions completely hid the light rush of blood on his face and neck that the moonlight so nicely illuminated.

"In that dress," he muttered. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation Minen almost laughed; only Buchse would be this embarrassed at seeing a women _with _clothing rather than _without _it. Being old style, the dress itself wasn't even very revealing. Certainly less so than her normal apparel, which eliminated any excess fabric in favor of maneuverability. Come to think of it . . . there was nothing that Buchse should be embarrassed about at all. So why . . .

"I'm a bit confused," Minen admitted.

_You're not the only one_, Buchse thought.

"It didn't look like you," he said, trying to make sense of his own thoughts as he did so, "when you walked out of the room . . . I couldn't even think. I was," he took a moment to search for the right word. And could not for the life of him think of _anything _that described what he had felt! Damnit he _hated_ this!

Strong thin fingers tightened just slightly around his wrist. He looked back (praying to any gods who were listening that his face had returned to its proper color) to his partner who was staring at him with eyes full of confusion and . . . something. Something he didn't think he had ever seen before, and could not figure out what it was!

"You do know you can talk it out to me, Buchse," Minen spoke softly; "we've been partners for six years. Blast it; you're a better friend than I'm likely to find anywhere else in this world or any other! And if you don't start giving me some more concrete information I don't think either of us is going to figure out what the bloody hell is going on tonight."

He wanted to tell her everything. About his churning stomach and pounding heart. How just looking at her had giving him some feeling he couldn't name, something out of control that left him totally defenseless. That he hadn't liked the feeling, had _hated_ the feeling. But that feeling was what pushed away the twisted emotions Tsaubern had made surface. Tell her how some time during their dance he had stopped hating the feeling, even going so far as to think it . . . rather nice. He wanted to explain to her that she had somehow found her way into his heart and soul. The heart and soul he had thought blocked off from the world, simply by the nature of who he was. How she was his friend, yes, like Geschutz was his friend. But she was more than that; she was a part of him in a way that went inexplicably deeper than friendship.

But he had never been comfortable with words. It wasn't his way. Wasn't _their_ way. Minen was right though, if he did not give her solid information neither of them would be able to figure out this issue. So he gave her the most concrete truth he could think of, one that seemed to sum up the entirety of the night's emotional challenge.

"When you kissed me," Minen's body tensed at the mention of her blunder, "I didn't want you to leave."

Her draw dropped in a most un-ladylike fashion at her partner's simple statement. With those few words, he had conveyed all the information Minen needed to figure out "what the bloody hell is going on tonight." That damnable attraction she was feeling . . . it was . . . mutual? Damn it all! Who were they and what had they done to the unflappable former Belfar Agents? She snapped her mouth shut and reacted in the only way she could think of, given the unfamiliarity of the situation.

"Then why in all hell didn't you kiss me back?!" she snapped, realizing the moment that they left her lips how much she sounded like a petty teenager. Damn these feelings, damn Buchse for causing these feelings, damn her for not being able to control these feelings, and DAMN Tsaubern for being the reason behind this whole mess!

But surprisingly Buchse seemed to think it a valid question and did not shirk from answering. "I was . . . shocked, to put it lightly," he glanced at her nervously, "I did not expect you to do that . . . nor did I expect to enjoy it so much."

Another drawn out silence ensued. And again, it was Buchse who broke it. He moved closer to Minen and whispered, "If you are not adverse to the idea . . . I would like to make amends."

His grey eyes searched hers for any kind of reaction. For some kind of signal that would tell him that he had gone too far. But he found nothing of the sort.

It seemed that tonight there was a loose connection between her mouth and her brain, because without even thinking Minen found herself whispering in return, "I think I'd like that."

Leaning forward, Buchse quickly closed the distance between them before he could give himself time to think about what he was doing, before he could analyze the situation and figure out what a _bad_ idea this was. She was a noblewoman and he was her family's captain of the guard. It wasn't right, it wasn't proper, and gods damn it all, as soon as his lips met hers he didn't care anymore!

Like the silence, it was awkward at first, but unlike the silence that awkwardness soon faded away as both of them leaned into each other, allowing the veritable tsunami of formerly unknown feelings to wash over them. Buchse felt Minen's arms snake around his neck as he wrapped his own around her shoulders, drawing her deeper into the kiss as he did so.

Even when the need for air finally forced their lips to break apart, neither one pulled away from the embrace. Breathing heavily, their faces only inches apart, they looked into each other's eyes. And finally understood exactly what had gone on that night.

"Seem strange," Minen said, never once taking her eyes off of her partner's.

"Hmm?"

Laughing softly, Minen maneuvered herself so that she and Buchse were sitting side by side against the low wall before answering. "Us," she replied, "This. You wouldn't think fate would allow it."

"Because of the Belfar Agency? Who we became for them?"

"That's it exactly. Killers, the two of us. I've enjoyed it, and I know you have too."

"It always feels good to hit a target, living or not," Buchse agreed. After putting an arm around his friend and pulling her so she was tight against his side (ever watchful for signs that this was _not_ what she wanted) he added, "It is a good thing that there is no such thing as fate."

She smirked up at him, "You think?"

He lowered his head and briefly pressed his lips to hers before whispering, "I know."

&*&*&

_ And so it is done. My first completed multi-chap. Sorry if it feels like I left stuff out in the ending . . . This story was basically meant to be about Buchse and Minen realizing they had feelings for one another, nothing more. It was also meant to leave me room to write a sequel at some point in time. I actually have an idea for it, as well as an idea for a story taking place in the Belfar Agency. Once I finish with Of Sketchpads and Shadows or Shadow Knight I'll most likely start on the other Buchse/Minen ideas. _

_ Well, thank you for sticking with me this long. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading and happy writing to you all!_


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